About Last Night
by Aussiegirl41
Summary: Paramnesia: A distortion of memory in which fact and fancy are confused. Why was Groundbreaking so significant for Bill and Laura? Perhaps there was more to it than just singing and smoking...
1. Chapter 1

_"Where?" she asked._

"Here." She shivered as he held her hair back and bent to breathe the one word against the delicate skin behind her right earlobe.

She traced her finger over the character illustrated in the book. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and she told him so.

"It means you will be my last, my ultimate. There will be no others beyond you."

An olive skinned man shuffled over to them and unfurled a crimson swatch of velvet. A neat row of silver utensils shone in the New Caprican moonlight, reflecting up at them ethereally. With spindly fingers, he picked up one particular ornate device shaped like a pen and slowly removed a protective cap to reveal a needle. 

Laura woke up with a gasp.

"Hey. You okay? Bad dream?"

She blinked over at the voice's owner. Bill was standing in front of the small looking glass she had set up in the corner of her tent. His face was soaped up with white foam and in one hand he gripped a straight razor.

"I don't remember you arriving with shaving gear," she blurted out as a 'good morning'.

"Didn't. Borrowed it from Anders," he explained, also not bothering with any formal greeting.

"I'm thinking you'll elaborate to why soon," she quipped.

He chuckled, and turned back to the mirror. "I need to look respectable," he said as he began to scrape the old-fashioned blade across the stubble of his cheek. She watched his slow, careful movements, mesmerised.

She eventually forced her eyes away, but only as far as the clothes rack just beyond his shoulder. Her red skirt and wrap were hanging neatly upon it.

"Bill, you always look respectable," she grumbled, wriggling under the cot's blanket to feel what she was wearing. Her underwear was still in place. And she was wearing the taupe camisole.

"How's your head?" he asked cheerily, changing the subject.

"Spongy."

"When you're fully awake, we'd better get going."

"Going? Where exactly are we going?"

"A wedding."

_Their lips brushed lightly together. They glanced back over to the priest self-consciously. He mumbled to himself and shuffled away into the night._

They stood alone in the temple, the flickering candles bathing them in a warm, romantic glow. They swayed together and kissed again, their lips parting and their tongues tangling.

Slack jawed, she stared up at Bill. He was patting his face dry with a towel and looking down at her expectantly.

His tunic was hanging open, showing off a set of grey tanks beneath. Her fingers itched to...

"Sorry?" she prompted, digging her nails into the cot's mattress.

"Do you want me to wait outside?" He turned and removed her skirt from the rack, draping his towel in its place over the hanger. "While you dress," he added, holding out the flowing red material in her direction.

She shook her head and accepted the skirt. Still, ever the gentleman, he busied himself with making a cup of tea while she climbed out of the bed and shimmied the skirt up over her hips.

"This will make you feel better," he murmured as he passed her the steaming mug.

She nodded her thanks and took a long sip of the beverage, letting it burn down across her sore throat. Straight away, she began to cough. "Now I remember why I gave up smoking," she croaked, quickly taking another sip.

He lowered himself to the edge of her cot and bent to drag on his boots. She spun around in a vague circle, searching for her own.

"Here," he said, toeing them out from under the cot. "Sit down," he ordered. He moved to crouch on the ground in front of her, helping her on with them and tying the laces securely as she continued to drink her tea.

Along with his shave, he'd obviously cleaned his teeth somehow. He smelt nice. She could detect a faint trace of mint on his breath. The tangy scent of the soap he'd used to shave with was still fresh in the air, along with another naturally earthy odour rising from his skin; both of which were making the blood pump wildly through her veins.

Before she could do anything embarrassing, he straightened and buttoned up his uniform.

She struggled to her feet, glancing down to make sure the bodice of her dress was sufficiently modest.

"Bit late now," he teased, handing her the red wrap.

"Are you at least going to give me a few moments to brush my teeth?"

"Yep, but that's it. We'll be late."

"Small mercies," she grumbled as she squeezed a tiny bit of paste on her brush. "Are you going to tell me whose wedding?" she asked between scrubs.

"You don't want to guess?"

"Mmm... Saul and Ellen, renewing their vows."

He laughed. "No."

"You went to their wedding?" she asked over her shoulder.

"No. They were already married when we met."

"So you never had a chance to talk him out of it," she said, giving him a cheeky look in the mirror.

"No."

She turned, wiping her mouth with her towel. "Would you have?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"Have what?"

"Tried to talk him out of it."

He looked down at his hand and twisted the ring there. "Every man has to make his own choices. I might have reminded him of the seriousness of such a decision. Marriage isn't something you should attempt for the wrong reasons."

"So..." She looked away from his ring and studied the area where his thick hair curled around his right ear. Surely he wouldn't be talking so casually about weddings if... "You wouldn't get married for the wrong reasons... As a joke, for example?"

"A joke? Why would anyone get married as a joke?"

_They were stargazing. He pointed out the Fleet. She teased him about his singing._

"Is this how we're going to spend all the rest of our days?"

They were holding hands.

"For love and sacrifice. This is how you shall spend all the rest of your days - as one."

They snorted at the uncanny similarity in the words being quoted.

"This is not a matter to be entered into lightly or without a clear sensibility," the tall man in flowing robes chastised them in a grave tone. 

She shrugged, turning back towards the mirror.

"You look beautiful."

She giggled, but then screwed up her features. "My hair!" she cried.

"What about it?"

"It's sticking out everywhere. It looks like I've… People will think you've… We've…"

"Slept together?" he offered.

"Yes," she hissed, patting down her hair as best she could. The windswept look it would have to be, she realised.

"We did sleep together. I didn't realise you'd be so opposed to the idea in the cold light of day," he said quietly, all the teasing laughter suddenly gone from his tone.

She turned, seeing the hurt etched on his features. "No!" She reached out and clung onto his arm. "I didn't mean it that way, Bill. But I have a confession. I don't remember exactly what we did last night."

His muscles tensed beneath her touch. "What do you remember?" he asked.

She shook her head in an effort to clear her muddled thoughts. Bill stared down at her with an anxious gaze.

"Bits and pieces," she admitted finally. "I remember you singing."

A hint of a smile crossed his face at her teasing.

"If I embarrassed you in any way or acted like some sort of tramp-"

He let out a ragged sigh. "You could never be anything but a lady; even when you're slightly inebriated."

She hummed. "Slightly?" she repeated, uncertain.

"You were charming. You're always charming," he assured her.

"Now who's being charming?" she joked.

Smiling still, he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear - her right ear.

His gaze wandered from her hair down to her lips. He was about to kiss her. She opened her mouth, inviting him, but...

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and retrieved his glasses before donning them. Then, as if by magic, he produced hers. "Let's get going," he said as he carefully slid them onto her face.

"You still haven't told me whose wedding," she griped. Didn't he want to kiss her when she wasn't dying or drunk?

"Kara and Sam's."

"Sam's?" she repeated, frowning up at the glare of the rising sun.

"Yeah. Who else would Kara marry?"

She pursed her lips and never answered. Who else indeed? But what did she know? She didn't even know if, after all the time she'd spent avoiding the institution, she was now married.

She lifted her finger up to her ear where his fingers had brushed gently just a moment ago, experimentally touching the sensitive skin there that rarely was exposed to the sun. Surely she would feel it if she had been tattooed. Or seen _something_ in the mirror.

She silently berated herself. She was letting her imagination run away with her because she'd had some silly dream.

It was probably something to do with the cigarette she'd got from that Oracle. She should have never have listened to that crazy woman.

She licked her lips, suddenly famished. "Muffins. Chocolate muffins," she said hopefully, causing him to let out a rumble of laughter.

"We don't have time. Although, I wouldn't say 'no' to a coffee. If I don't have coffee soon, I might just pass out again."

"You passed out?" she asked incredulously, linking their hands so that she could more comfortably stroll alongside him down the New Caprican laneway.

"Yeah."

"So we never..."

"Not that I know of."

"Good," she said firmly.

Bill stopped in his tracks. "Good?" he groused.

"Yes, Bill," she said in her most placating tone. "When we have sex, I'd like to think it was special enough to remember."

He rewarded her comment with a toothy grin before grasping her hand again and continuing to lead her along the rocky path.

They'd walked along in companionable silence for quite a while when Bill suddenly barked out one word: "Nuts."

"What?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"That tent has nuts."

She grimaced across to one of the several small tents that had sprung up over the settlement for the specific purpose of selling refreshments to the revellers on Founders' Day.

"You make me feel more hungover than I really am with statements like that," she murmured. "And I thought we had to hurry!"

"Sorry," he said, bending to, at last, kiss her. It was just a quick peck on the thin exasperated line of her mouth. "Don't go away."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest as he almost skipped into the tent.

Then, reluctantly, she found herself smiling as he enthusiastically negotiated with the trader.

His joyous mood this morning was starting to rub off on her. He had to be feeling the physical effects of the alcohol and herbal cigarettes they'd enjoyed last night as much as she was, but clearly he'd woken quite a bit more even-tempered. In fact, he was so damn cheerful, she was a touch suspicious that he was still intoxicated.

A moment later he exited the tent.

"Nuts?" he offered, holding a brown paper bag in her direction.

She tentatively popped one of the round kernels into her mouth. She was now literally starving.

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and studied him a little more dispassionately as he swallowed the nuts hungrily down. His face in the sunlight was much paler than usual. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. Every time he looked around, he squinted. She was right; he wasn't as unaffected by their previous night's activities as he was pretending to be.

Reality suddenly dawned on her. When she'd asked him whether or not they'd had sex, he had answered with a 'not that I know of'. "You don't remember everything either!" she accused.

"Nope," he agreed casually without even raising an eyebrow. "It's all a bit hazy. I'm blaming that concoction you brought with you."

"It doesn't worry you that there are gaps?"

"Nope." He stopped biting down on the nuts and lifted her hand. He placed a small kiss on the back of her knuckles. "The parts I remember were good."

She hummed, his soft touch infusing her with contentment. Their gazes met and held, and her heart quickened at the promises she saw dancing in his blue irises.

"Come on, let's get to this wedding."


	2. Chapter 2

_She was moulded against his side._

"So small and fragile."

He never heard her soft snort.

"So lovely; a precious gift, enhanced by red wrapping; shining brightly on an otherwise dull planet."

She lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek. "So poetic," she teased gently before curling herself back into position and closing her eyes. 

Bill rubbed his temples. His head was a jumbled mess.

Laura seemed to be faring much better than he was since they'd found a coffee vendor on their walk down to the river. At this moment, while he stood waiting for the wedding party in the shade, she was excitedly exploring the small grassed area by the water. Every few minutes she would enthusiastically point out ways they could utilise the natural environment.

"I wonder how cold the water is?" she asked. "It's not quite as clear as the lake on the ridge, but it's still quite nice." She grinned at him over her shoulder. "Maybe there is some hope for this planet, after all."

Bill gulped, desperately trying to alleviate his parched mouth. She was almost as relaxed and loose-limbed as she was last night.

"What?" she husked, swaying on the spot for a moment before slowly strolling over to him.

The sun was catching in her hair, highlighting the different streaks of red in amongst the thick, tangled locks. He wondered why she never pinned it up. Had she even had it cut since the attacks?

The red wrap was tied loosely just under her breasts. The dress beneath was tight, accentuating the fullness of her curves. A red skirt flowed haphazardly over the top of the grey dress, hiding her legs which he knew were sleek and stunning. Hiding them made him want to touch them all the more.

When she reached his side, she slowly took a nut from the bag he was still holding. "You remember something?" She curled her tongue out to lick the salt from the corner of her mouth.

"I couldn't possibly say what I'm thinking out loud."

She eyed him over the top of her glasses, "You did last night."

"What? You remember something?" His words came out much more abruptly than he'd intended.

With jerky fingers, she pulled the two red sides of her wrap around her more securely, indignant.

_Her hair tickled his cheek as he exhaled, but he never brushed it away._

He rolled her over onto her back and kissed her until she was gasping for breath.

He took a long drag of his cigarette.

He lifted her skirt, whispering a caress along her thigh.

He blew a plume of smoke above her head.

"You're so sexy when you're rumpled."

Their lips met again, their hands burrowing beneath their clothes, seeking bare skin.

She lifted her head and looked around, disorientated. He held out the cigarette as an offer. She shook her head, smiled sweetly and nestled back upon his chest, one arm draping over his body to lightly grasp his arm. 

A warm hug from Kara snapped Bill out of his daydream.

Sam, still looking as dazed as when he'd seen Bill earlier, hovered behind her. Rounding out the guests were Saul and Ellen.

"Hey, Bill," Saul greeted him with a slap to the back. "Didn't see much of you last night."

"I was around."

Saul and Ellen both eyed Laura warily.

"Saul. Ellen," she greeted them coolly with a barely perceptible nod.

"Who'd have thought?" Bill said, nodding towards Kara and Sam.

They all made little surprised sounds, nodded, and shrugged.

"Lee must have returned to _Pegasus_ last night. It's a shame he's going to miss it."

If Bill hadn't been looking over at the arriving priest, he would have seen all three of his companions raising their eyebrows before they all turned their attention to the start of the ceremony.

"She looks a little nervous," Laura quietly noted.

"Don't all brides?"

She just hummed and they fell silent as the priest weaved his religious beliefs into a poem for lovers.

The ceremony was brief, but traditional.

"Who will give this woman?" the priest asked.

Kara turned to him and nodded.

Tears welled in his eyes as he said, "I do."

_They were kissing; no chaste kiss of friends, but a hungry kiss of lovers. His fingers were biting into her hips, holding her close._

"Let's go home," she gasped.

"Home?"

The red wrap fell to the floor. She trembled with each light stroke of his fingers.

"You're right. We can't go home. How about my tent?"

"Your tent?"

He bent his head, kissing a freckle just below her right collarbone.

"Yes. We can't keep doing this here."

"Here?"

Small dark figurines, which were painting shadows over the deep gold curtain draped across the side of the tent, stared down at them.

He took hold of her arm. "Let's get out of here," he growled.

Bill sat beneath one of the small trees; Laura's socks and shoes neatly stacked beside him.

The wedding was over. The priest had returned to his temple.

Sam and Kara were sitting on a blanket in the shade a few yards away. A tattoo artist was etching half the Wing of Caprica along Starbuck's left arm. Apparently Sam would soon get the other half on his arm, thus cementing their commitment, they told everyone. Saul and Ellen were standing nearby, clearly fascinated.

Bill was watching halfheartedly. He'd seen more than his share of tattoos being applied in his day.

Most of his attention, as per usual, was turned toward Laura. She was standing on the edge of the river, holding her skirt up, wading through the shallow water happily.

His heart skipped a beat every time she glanced in his direction. Sometimes she waved, other times she just grinned.

He checked his watch, amazingly it was only 800 hours. It was, however, late enough for the alcohol and drugs to be leaving his system, to be replaced by a hangover. His eyes were itchy, his throat was dry and his stomach was churning. Every time someone spoke, it sounded like they were yelling into a microphone. And some sort of indigenous insect must have stung him behind his ear. He just needed a couple hours of shut-eye...He lay back on the grass and closed his eyes.

"Strange."

He pried open one of his eyes. Laura was perched on a grassy mound beside his feet.

"What?"

"The Tighs being the only other guests."

"Yes." He glanced over at the odd group. "Seems the events of the last nine months have made everyone change."

She shaded her eyes with one hand and squinted over at him. "You've changed?"

He closed his eyes again; colours danced behind his lids. "Yeah, we've all changed."

He wasn't sure if he was pleased or not when Laura changed the subject. "You're Tauron?"

"Depends who's asking."

"What does that mean?"

"Means that I was born on Caprica to Tauron parents. So it depends who's asking and why they want to know."

He would swear he could hear her brain ticking over, considering this information.

"I'm asking," she finally murmured.

He dragged himself up into the sitting position and met her intense gaze. "I'm Tauron," he said, quietly, with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Is that why you don't have any tattoos? For the times you want, or have, to be Caprican?"

"No. For a Tauron, tattoos are not just body art, or a whim of youth. They are the entire detailed history of your life. The markings indicate the basics, like your family's heritage, your occupation, and your marital status; the trivial, like what subjects you excelled at school, your hobbies and favourite sports; and the deeply personal, like a tribute to relatives that have died and whether or not you fought in a war."

She turned her head to one side as if he was a curious museum exhibit. "I still don't understand why you don't have any, Bill. You fought in the First Cylon War. You were married. Zak..." He closed his eyes again for a moment during her pause. "Your father wouldn't approve? I know you've told me that you and he...never saw eye to eye."

He snorted. "No, he had markings on his body. I didn't always live up to them."

He turned his head towards the makeshift tattoo parlour beneath the next tree.

"Pride," he muttered.

"What?"

"Taurons are a proud peoples. My father was a proud man. Tauron tattoos display your pride. Pride in yourself. Pride in others. You're advertising your successes to every man you meet."

"What about Zak?" she dared to ask again. "You don't want to show off the way you felt about him? The success he'd made of his life before his accident?"

"And there's the quandary I could never get past," he sighed heavily. "My relationship with my parents was never strong, so should I take that step and announce who they were on my arm? I survived the war, but so many others I fought alongside never. Should anyone consider those deaths a success? Zak..." He looked out over the water of the river. "Zak died in an accident. One that, if I'd been more involved in his life, I may have been able to prevent. Should I ink that onto my chest for prosperity? No," he answered his own question, firmly. "I don't need reminders of my failures."

"Bill..." She laced his fingers with hers.

"When I find something I'm completely proud of; something that I am sure I will always consider as a success; something that I would be happy the entire universe know about forever; that will be the day I'll get a tattoo."

She squeezed his hand gently.

He looked back at her. She was frowning worriedly up at him. He gave her a small crooked grin. "That will be a good day."


	3. Chapter 3

_His hand cradled her face in his hand. He was going to kiss her._

"How are we going to make this work?" she whispered. "With you up there and me down here."

He ignored her question, and instead bent his head. She thought he was going to kiss her forehead, or perhaps one of her cheeks. So when his lips moved lower, to her breasts peeking out over the top edge of her camisole, their size exaggerated by its tightness, she was unable to stifle a surprised whimper.

"It's almost like I have joint custody of you. Your other woman gets you most of the time. I get every other weekend," she rambled. If she kept talking she could avoiding thinking of the ache in the pit of her stomach, the burning of her thighs, or the tears in her eyes.

"Or it's a vacation," she panted, clinging to his shoulders. "Yes, I'm on a vacation. But you haven't finished your work contract yet."

He wasn't listening. His fingers were flicking at the lacy edge of the top, eventually managing to make her breasts spill out completely.

"We could call each other, I guess. There is that Raptor with the wireless set up... Can we scramble-"

He raised his head and stepped back before she could finish her question.

She looked down at herself. Her nipples were hard and raised, glistening from his attention. She should be cold, in the night air, half naked. She was hot. She watched a flush suffuse her decolletage, causing her freckles to darken and become more prominent.

"You're leaving?" she gasped.

Laura ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated. "I wish I could remember more," she said.

Beside her, Bill chuckled. "You're the one who brought that cigarette," he reminded her mildly.

"I don't like the way last night is already beginning to feel like another time, another place. I need some happy memories. Ones that will help get me through the lonely nights on the planet," she admitted softly.

He took a slow audible breath beside her before giving her a quiet order: "Tell me a happy memory."

She frowned over at him, uncertain.

"One memory that you can almost reach out and touch," he elaborated. "One that, when you need to, you can hold onto."

She looked away, turning all her attention back to the water. The wind had sprung up, and she focused gratefully on the ripples forming across the surface of the river.

"I don't have any," she insisted softly.

He began to talk. Her heart skipped a beat at the almost ethereal tone that came into his voice. "I ran alongside Zak, holding his bicycle's handlebars as he pedalled furiously, but unsteadily. Then, one breathtaking moment: I let go. I stopped running, and he kept going-straight and strong."

As his small story came to an end, her heart was pounding so loud she felt it thrumming through her entire body.

"You must have one happy memory from before the attacks."

She began to shake her head, but stopped when she felt her hair stir. She knew it was from a kiss.

"Just one...," he exhaled the words softly near her ear.

Her hands slowly clenched into fists by her side as one perfect day burst clear and sharp in her mind. "Cheryl and Sandra were there..." She faltered as other, less than happy, memories tried to force their way into her vision. She determinedly pushed them away. "And my mother...Father..." She sniffed. "A wedding."

She saw their faces in amongst the gentle waves lapping the shore. She could remember in startling detail everything from that day-their dresses, their hairstyles, their accessories, even the way the girls had applied their makeup.

She touched her cheek. Surely she would still be able to feel the imprint from where she'd leaned on her father's chest as they'd danced that night.

"That's the only reason I want to remember last night," Bill's voice brought her back to the here and now. "So I have at least one other happy memory if I need it in the future," he explained before they both fell silent.

He picked up a stick and began to draw circular shapes into the rocky sand beside her. She continued to watch the wind on the water.

Their companionable silence was comforting and blended with an acute intimacy. She realised that was exactly how last night was as well - vaguely familiar, yet new, and special. He was right. Last night had been so special. It was a happy memory for them to cherish forever.

He was the first one to speak. However, his question wasn't at all what she was expecting. "Was it your wedding?"

_He adjusted her top and dragged her down the laneway._

Her dress and wrap, along with his tunic, were dispensed of between hard, urgent kisses as soon as they crashed through the doorway of her tent.

They fell upon her small cot, a tangled mess, laughing and motioning that their boots had to be removed.

His hands swept along her legs. She moaned loudly when he rubbed a knuckle against the gusset of her panties. He whispered vows of love and fidelity in her ear.

They both froze when they heard a familiar feminine voice just outside their tent.

"We should-" Before she could finish her thought he placed his finger across her lips, shushing her. She held his gaze as his other hand pushed aside her panties.

Soon she forgot Tory, closed her eyes, and relaxed into his touch. He flicked and teased her for a long while before changing his tempo and putting every effort into her pleasure. She writhed and gasped beneath him, quivering with her building excitement.

He muffled the rest of her groans with his palm over her mouth.  
  
She bit down hard on her bottom lip, flustered from this sudden recollection.

He'd said they hadn't had sex. She was piqued that he didn't remember. Her irritation was unfair, she admitted, considering that she had only just remembered herself.

She swung away from the river to peer at him. His entire demeanour was tense. He was waiting for her to answer his question. Such a ridiculous question, she fumed.

"No," she answered, drawling the word out as if it had more than one syllable.

He grimaced, making his face squint.

"I didn't think my marital status was a secret," she went on, looking pointedly at the ring on his hand. It winked back at her provocatively in the morning sun. "Yours is much more ambiguous."

"Just because you're not married now, doesn't mean you never have been," he quietly challenged.

She waited for a comeback on her comment about his ring, but it seemed he was ignoring the second of her statements. For some reason that made her even more unreasonably angry.

"No, I've never been married," she bit out peevishly.

Bill wasn't oblivious to her new mood apparently. Like some sort of petulant child, he snapped the stick he'd been drawing in the sand with and threw it onto the ground.

"The wedding was my sister Cheryl's. My other sister, Sandra, and I were the bridesmaids."

Sandra used to tease her, always a bridesmaid... She might now be a bride at last, only with some sort of weird ironic twist, because she didn't know for sure.

She glanced over to where today's newly betrothed couple sat while the tattoo artist darkened the wings on Kara's arm.

"Of course, no one got tattoos at my sister's wedding," she snapped, now unable to control her annoyance with everyone and everything.

His reply was a blunt, "Of course not."

She pulled at her wrap. "I think I need another coffee."

_"Chief and Cally want to have their baby on the planet."_

She hummed out an affirmative reply.

"Don't you think it would be better to have a baby in sickbay with all the facilities available than in some tent?"

"It's probably more important to her to be somewhere comfortable."

"Galactica's comfortable," he insisted.

She smiled tenderly at his defensive attitude. "Your quarters are comfortable," she said, patting his arm reassuringly. "The rest…I wouldn't want to spend too much time in that sterile environment of sickbay if I was having a baby."

She blinked back tears when his fingers began to lightly stroke across the slight swell of her belly.  
  
Laura shivered slightly at this new memory jumping into her consciousness. And one so different from the last.

"You should go and find Chief; tell him you're letting him settle," she told Bill, making no apologies or giving any explanations for her sudden change of subject.

"You're so sure I'm going to?" he murmured testily before reaching around for her shoes and socks.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bill. You know it's the right thing to do."

"No, I don't know if it's the right thing. I think that's the point, Laura, that we're all dealing with unknowns by settling on this planet. One thing I do know is _Galactica_. I can trust her. I understand her. She won't turn around and bite me on the ass."

Through his sermon he had gently tugged on her socks and pushed on her boots. Now, he knelt in front of her tying her laces, just as he had earlier. And with his simple task all her anger oozed away.

"I thought you might let them settle because I've heard you're a soft touch," she said quietly.

He stood, helping her to her feet. "We need to say goodbye to the others."

"Of course," she hummed.

But neither of them moved. Laura stared at his hands clasped together tightly. Bill's own gaze was directed at his boots.

Ellen's piercing shriek of laughter distracted them both. They turned to see Sam's tattoo was taking shape on his arm.

"I'm scared of needles," she shyly admitted. "Since just before the attacks, I've had more than my fair share of them stuck in my arm, and other places, for tests, biopsies, drips, anaesthesia... I hold my breath and count to ten each time. Sometimes I even close my eyes. Stupid at my age. But, truly, I'd be happy to never have another one come near me."

"So, you wouldn't get a tattoo?"

She glanced quickly up at the wavy hair around Bill's ears.

"Would you ever ask me to?" she breathed.

His gaze never left Sam's arm.

"You gonna come with me?" he asked huskily. "To see Chief? We could find some coffee on the way."

She smiled and bumped her shoulder against his. "Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

_"I don't know why we're bothering with a priest, considering you're an atheist."_

_"You're not. I need to respect your wishes."_

_She tugged on his hand, signalling him to stop. He turned back, raising an eyebrow questioningly._

_"You've always made it clear that you don't believe what I believe, but you never mock me. Thank you."_

_He grinned and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Since Kobol, we've managed to find a common ground on nearly everything."_

_She stood on tiptoes. "Some things are easier than others." She whispered her words into his mouth._

_"And you're still sure you agree on this? It's not too late to back out."_

_"I want to show you, and my Gods, that I'm committed to you."_

_He frowned at her choice of words._

_"What?" she asked, sensing his anxiety._

_"If I don't believe in your gods, or that your priest has any more power than any other man, I need to find another way to prove to you how committed I am."_

_"And just how were you planning on doing that?" she asked throatily._

_He squared his shoulders. "The traditional Tauron way, I suppose," he announced._

Bill staggered on the spot at this new memory from last night.

Ahead of him, Laura spoke over her shoulder, "I'll put some tea on."

He reached up and touched the tender flesh behind his ear.

"No," he snapped, dropping his hand away abruptly.

She looked up from where she was now pinning back the loose flap that served as a door to her tent. "No?" she asked, uncertain.

"You don't have coffee."

"Only tea," she confirmed.

"Why don't you ever have coffee?" he groused.

She flashed him a reproachful look over the top of her glasses. "I didn't realise I was running a restaurant, Admiral," she tossed back testily.

After a long moment, she loosened her grip from where she was squeezing the canvas tightly and took a few tentative steps towards him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, skimming her fingers lightly over the collar of his tunic.

"I'll go and get some coffee," he replied vaguely.

"Okay," she said slowly.

"Better check in with Helo, too. You'll be alright?"

She grimaced. "I'm a big girl now, Admiral." She dusted sand off her skirt. "I'll go and clean up a bit more while you're gone."

_"I can't believe we just had sex fully clothed," she murmured._

_"I can't believe a lot about tonight."_

_She giggled as she scrambled down to the base of the mattress to remove her socks and shoes._

_"While you're down there..."_

_Her head whipped up, her eyes widening, feigning shock._

_"I just meant, you could take off my boots... What did you think I meant?"_

_She gave him a mock scowl. "I didn't realise I would automatically become your handmaiden after we were intimate," she muttered, removing his boots nevertheless._

_She crawled back up to snuggle against his side, her fingers idly playing with his dog tags. "You're too accustomed to throwing around orders."_

_He chuckled and stretched his neck to look down at his wriggling bare toes. "Yeah, but I'm not accustomed to you following them."_

_She snorted, but then they both froze and fell silent as they heard Tory's voice outside the tent once again._

_When the ex-Aide's voice finally drifted away into the distance, he hooked his fingers around one of the thin straps of her top, sliding it down and off her shoulder. "So... You wanna fool around some more?" he asked._

_She never replied. She was fast asleep._

Bill felt his heart contract in his chest for a long moment before it once again expanded and began to pump blood through his body.

He clutched a tent pole for support and bent his head, closing his eyes in a concentrated effort to evoke further memories.

When none surfaced, he thought again about Laura's earlier comments, searching for any clues in their conversation that might point to her realising they'd done more than merely _sleep_ together. She mustn't, he conceded. She had fretted whether or not they'd had sex earlier, and when he'd admitted to passing out, she had given no indication that she'd done the same thing.

Soon he became aware that some of the passing settlers were giving him curious looks. He forced himself to straighten and continue back to Laura's tent.

A few minutes later, outside her door, he paused, unsure. He called her name out softly, loath to enter unannounced.

"Laura?" he called again, a little louder, when she never replied.

There was still no response, so he hesitantly flipped back the tent flap and peeked inside. Laura was on the mattress, seemingly asleep.

He stepped into the doorway and stared down at her.

She lay on her stomach, her folded arms cradling her head. The red dress was gone, replaced by a faded pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Her hair was hanging in damp curls around the bare skin of her nape and shoulders.

"Bill?" she mumbled sleepily as soon as he'd determinedly dragged his gaze away from her unknowingly sensous form in search of a pen and paper to leave her a note.

"Hey," he greeted her gruffly, returning to her side and crouching down.

"Everything okay?" she asked. Her eyes wandered over his mushed up hair. His heart skipped a beat; he was sure her attention lingered a moment on his ear. "With Helo," she specified.

"Yeah, fine. I ran into Lee too. Told him 'bout the wedding."

"How'd he take it?"

"Maybe it got him thinking about Zak," he commented, lowering his eyes, hoping to find the pattern of the tatty sheet covering her mattress distractingly interesting.

She hummed noncommittally before quietly asking, "Is that what happened to you? When you went in search of coffee? Memories of Zak?"

"No. I did have a couple of pangs of loss," he admitted, shutting his eyes as those same emotions threatened to engulf him again now. "But that was earlier, before you woke up, after Sam came around."

He let out a contented sigh when her fingers danced along his cleanly shaved jawline. "Just then; you were leaving?" she asked.

"Didn't want to disturb you."

His whole body tensed when she giggled at this statement.

"I was disturbed the moment I met you," she murmured, her voice deep and throaty.

"Yeah?" he asked in a strangled tone.

Her lips gently pressed against his.

He opened his eyes. She was giving him one of _those_ smiles that always made him want to adjust his uniform.

"I remembered something," he husked.

"And?" she prompted.

He inhaled audibly, fortifying himself. "We may have done more than just sleep last night."

She touched his bottom lip and he automatically drew her finger into his mouth, suckling gently. "I know," she confirmed.

His legs refused to hold his weight any longer and he dropped onto the mattress beside her with a disgusted grunt. "It would've been nice if you'd let me know," he accused as her hand fell away.

"I don't know everything," she insisted in a clipped tone. "I had a small glimpse come back to me at the river. What do you remember?" she asked, turning the tables.

He frowned. "You said something about having sex fully clothed." He ran a hand across his face, and stared up at the roof of the tent. "I'm sorry."

She rolled over to hover above him. "Why are you sorry?"

"Fully clothed probably means I frakked you like some two-cubit hooker behind one of the bars." She snorted, but he went on, "Or in one of those galvanised steel sheds which were recently erected to serve as amenities blocks. Your skirt up, my pants down," he grumbled, disgusted with himself.

"Oh, Bill..."

He reached up to cup her cheek which was again dimpling from her sweet smile.

"I'm serious. You deserve more than some dirty frak in the bushes."

She tilted her head and kissed his palm. "Or upon some sandbags?"

_"My back is starting to go."_

_"Go where?" she giggled, hooking her leg over him and effectively adding more weight onto his back._

_"I'm an old man, remember," he muttered, caressing her leg as he changed its angle. He soon realised that though he'd triumphed when it came to lessening her weight, he'd failed when it came to placing her in a less arousing position. She was, more or less, straddling him._

_"Is that more comfortable?" she asked innocently._

_Her breasts were directly in his line of sight. "No," he groaned._

_Her hand crept down and stroked him. He had started to harden a while ago, just from listening to her talk, and his half-erection leapt for joy at her slight touch._

_"For an old man, your flesh still seems willing enough. Maybe if we get my weight off of you." Her voice took on an everyday, routine intonation, like they were talking about sorting out their laundry instead of their limbs. "I could perhaps squeeze into this space between your legs." She bent and her nose nudged just below his belt._

_He gripped her tightly by her upper arms and flipped her over onto her back._

_Like a sprightly youth he hadn't been in over twenty years, he jumped up from the sandbags. Next, he gripped her hands and drew her up onto her feet._

_"Let's go," he growled in his most authoritative tone._

Bill rubbed his temples. "We made it back to the tent," he said with more confidence than he felt.

"I believe so."

"But you're not sure."

She thumbed his moustache gently. "We can never be sure. We'll never know whether or not our recollections are reliable. Are the things we're seeing really our memories? Are they hallucinations thanks to the cigarette? Or are they simply dreams that we had after we fell asleep?"

Her questions caught him unawares, and he silently mulled over them.

"Dreams that we are hoping to come true?" he mused.

Her lips somehow found a small, bare piece of skin near the collar of his uniform.

He inched up her t-shirt, spreading his palms and fingers over her back.

"Perhaps..." He lost his train of thought when she wriggled closer.

"Bill?" she breathed against his skin.

"Mmm?" He lowered his hand and pressed against her ass, contemplating if he preferred the way the denim held her snug, or the way her shape was more exposed in the loose red skirt. "Maybe..."

"We should try these things again in the cold light of day, just to be sure," she finished for him.

He tipped his head just a fraction so that he could kiss her slowly. She sighed into his mouth.

His hands swept up again, ascertaining she wasn't wearing a bra. "And perhaps..."

"Perhaps this time we might try it without clothes," she suggested, burying her hands beneath his tunic.

He chuckled, but then quickly sobered, knowing he had to confess the rest of his memories, whether they were reliable or not.

"There's something else," he said. "Something you should know."

Her hands stilled and she leaned back to meet his concerned gaze.

"I don't know...I think we may have..." He wasn't quite sure how to phrase his confession now. "Last night, I may have gotten a Tauron wedding tattoo."

"A wedding tattoo?"

"Yes, behind my right ear." Her eyes automatically focused on his ear. "For you," he added.

"For me?" she whispered.

"If I did," he ploughed on, "it means that my love stops with you. I shall never love another. I shall always be faithful to you."

She hummed and he bent his head, inviting her to brush back the thick wavy hair to inspect the area behind his ear.

Instead she began to unbutton his tunic, pushing it from his shoulders.

"Laura... Do you want me to get your glasses?" He looked over his shoulder, checking where she'd left them.

"No. It's okay."

She yanked at his tanks, and manipulated them up and over his head with minimal assistance on his part.

"Don't you want to look?" he asked, perplexed.

"No. It's okay," she repeated, looking and touching his scar instead.

He held her hands still.

"What do you mean? Don't you want to know?"

"I thought I did, but now I know I don't. What if it isn't there?" She shrugged. "You'll decide you don't love me? You'll go out and be unfaithful to me? Of course not," she went on, answering her own questions. "Whether or not we're married, whether or not you've engraved a symbol on your body as a sign of devotion to me, is irrelevant. I don't need a ring. You don't need a tattoo. You and I; we just are. I didn't want to believe that for a long time, but it's true."

He brought her hands up to kiss each one reverently.

"I love you," he vowed solemnly.

She looked away; taking a deep, unsteady breath. "I don't know..." She captured her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know if I can..."

His thumb caught the tears that spilled out from the corners of her eyes. "I do," he said, lifting her chin until she had to meet his gaze. "I do," he stressed.

They swayed together, their mouths meeting for a series of deep kisses, their tongues clashing, no longer tentative or shy.

"I do," he kept repeating as they broke away to breathe.

"I do," he murmured the two words over and over against her lips.

_Her head flew back and he latched his mouth onto her elegant neck._

_He only half-listened to her incoherent mutterings: cries to her Gods, to him, to make it stop, to make it never end._

_"I do," she sighed as her entire body trembled and she reached orgasm._

He woke, their naked bodies entwined, as close as they could be without him being inside her still.

He sensed she was awake too and gently kissed her forehead.

If her whispered words were simply a dream, one which he was hoping to come true, it didn't matter. If his memory was unrealiable, it didn't matter. It would, he decided, still be added to his list of happy memories.

"A happy memory to hold onto when we need it," he whispered.

She hummed quietly. "One that will help get me through the lonely nights on the planet," she agreed.

The End


End file.
